Free Chosen (HMCS Borealis Book 2) by S.J. Madill Page A

the first time in his career when things had gone wrong; it had been here, on this bridge.  It was a cold moment to realise that the training and simulating were over, that it was now real.  All too real; if there was a 'harm's way', they were most certainly in it.  Dillon tried to come up with something witty and reassuring.   "Don't panic," he said, a smile on his face.   "There will be plenty of time for panicking later."
    Their expressions told him that hadn't helped.   Time for a different approach.   "Anyone have any questions?"
    At the helm console, Seaman Pakinova raised her hand.   "Sir?   Are there more 'Human First' colonies out there?"
    "I don't know for sure, Pakinova, but then I'm not told everything. The 'Humans First' types are well-funded, and have no shortage of volunteers.   They're hiring independent freighters — Dosh or Jaljal — to drop them off at whichever planet they've chosen."
    "What are they trying to do, sir?" asked Pakinova.   "Don't they know the Palani will find them?"
    "I expect their idea is to get a colony up and running quickly.   So quickly that by the time the Palani discover it, it's too late to do anything about it.   If that's the case, they're underestimating the Palani."   Dillon shrugged, opening his hands to the air.   "Or, they might be calculating that Earth's governments won't be able to sit by and watch humans die, and will pressure the Palani to leave them alone."
    Tremblay raised his hand.   Dillon could see the young Sub-Lieutenant's deep frown.   "Sir?"
    "Go ahead, Tremblay."
    "Sir, I read that some of the 'Human First' types want to start a war between the Palani and all of humanity."
    "I read that too, Tremblay."
    "Do you think it's true, sir?"
    Dillon looked at his coffee cup, tracing his fingers around its rim.   "Well," he said after a moment's thought, "there are extremists, yes.   And likewise, there is a faction among the Palani who are pushing for war.   Any time there's a complicated problem, there are always some people who see force as a quick and easy way to resolve the problem.   It's easy to dismiss them, but we shouldn't.   They're smart people who honestly believe they're doing the right thing.   But once the shot leaves the gun, you can't take it back.   We need to make sure they don't send us all down a path we'll regret later."
    "Aye, sir."
    Dillon smiled at the bridge crew, who were still watching him.   He hoped he looked calm to them.   "Any other questions?"
    "No sir," answered the three.
    "Good, carry on then."
    Dillon reached up above his chair, to the communications console hanging from the ceiling.   Next to it, a small plastic clip had been attached: a gift from the ship's former engineer, neatly labelled:   'Vish Mk.1a Captain's Pen Holder'.   Removing his pen from the holder, Dillon put the end in his mouth.   He grabbed his coffee and stood up from his chair, taking one last look at the display before visiting the wardroom.   He heard steps behind him, and saw Tremblay approach.   "Sir?" said the young officer, his voice quiet.   "Do you have a moment?"
    "Absolutely, Sub."   Dillon glanced at the ship's clock.   "Wasn't your watch over a half hour ago?"
    "Aye, sir.   Just finishing some reading.   Sir, may I ask your permission for something?"
    Dillon nodded.   "Go for it."
    "Sir, remember when we spoke earlier, and I had some questions…"
    "I remember, yes.   I still don't have answers to everything."
    "Aye, sir.   The Chief told me that, for some questions, I should ask the chaplain — the Tassali — herself.   I wanted to ask your permission to go talk to her, sir."
    "You don't need my permission, Sub, but you have it."
    "Thank you, Captain.   I didn't want you to think—"
    Dillon gently waved his mug back and forth.   "We're all adults here, Sub.   You ask her whatever you need to, and she may or may not answer, depending on what she is able to say, or is willing to say, or whatever.